


The Monster in Your Closet

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: The Monster in Your [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Developing Relationship, Fear, First Meetings, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vet!Jack, monster!reaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Once upon a time, in a faraway country lived the Reaper… and now Jack Morrison was moving into HIS house.My pieces for the 'Monster in Your Closet Zine'.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: The Monster in Your [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696429
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord [The Unholy Trinity](https://discord.gg/jdpcfy6XTB).

Once upon a time, in a faraway country lived the Reaper…

The old farmhouse had stood abandoned for years, even the children who had once tested their courage in its dusty rooms had long since fled, victims to the shadow that dwelt within its walls. Now the house loomed, a lonely sentinel peering through the trees at the surrounding fields, reclaimed by nature as plants crept up the outer walls, slipping in through cracks and shattered windows and adding to the slow decay inside. The ‘ _For Sale’_ sign that had been put up years before was now lost amongst the twisting weeds that had grown beside it, lying tilted, forgotten…

But the house had not been forgotten, and things were about to change.

There was a stirring in the depths of the house, a whispering sigh seeming to reverberate from the walls themselves as smoke began to seep from underneath the closet door. At first it was little wisps, barely visible in the weak sunshine that penetrated the dust-covered windows, but gradually it began to take shape, curling, solidifying until a cloven hoof hit the floor, the wooden beams protesting under the sudden weight.

_Someone is here._

The Reaper was unsure of how long it had been sleeping, hiding away, waiting for someone to feed from. A long time, if the gnawing ache in its stomach was anything to go on, an ache that was made worse by the tantalising scent of fear permeating the air, and its form solidified further as it followed the trail down the stairs, having to duck at the bottom as its antlers threatened to catch on the low ceiling. The house had changed it realised, staring through sunken eyes at the dusty debris and foliage that had overtaken its home, but it was hard to focus on that when it could hear movement outside, and with the teasing promise of a feast lingering in the air. Cautiously it prowled across to the window and peered outside, growing restless as it spied the humans standing just beyond the porch, lingering just beyond its reach, but close enough to taunt him with their fear.

It recognised the woman, she had been one of the last to enter the house. It could remember how delicious her terror had been when it had allowed her to glimpse him for a fleeting second, chuckling to itself as it remembered how she had screamed and fled. Its amusement faded, her fear no longer tantalising to it, instead letting it gaze drift to her companion. The man was different, staring at the house as though it was a sanctuary and the Reaper tilted its head to the side, the tip of its skull tapping lightly against the window and for a moment their eyes seemed to meet, and it waited for the fear to appear. Instead the man merely blinked, shaking his head and turned back to his companion…

Now the Reaper could smell the man’s fear, the same deep, alluring scent that had drawn him downstairs. It was different, nothing like the terror that came from those that had encountered the Reaper, instead it seemed to radiate from the man himself, a soul-deep fear that tainted everything around him and the Reaper wanted it. Its mouth watering as it savoured the air, detecting the pain, the sorrow, the guilt lingering beneath the fear. Different flavours that drew him closer, skull rattling against the window again, and this time the woman flinched at the sound and practically threw the keys she had been holding at the man before backing away, her voice high with fear.

The Reaper watched dispassionately as she fled, before movement drew his attention, excitement flooding him as he realised that the man was not fleeing but moving closer, picking his way awkwardly over the debris covering the steps, his gait stiff as though he were injured. It watched for a moment longer, taking in the greying hair, the scarred features and haunted eyes that were still moving constantly in search of some unseen threat, and finally it moved, reaching for the door before the man did, sharp claw unlocking it and allowing it to swing open as it whispered.

“Come…”


	2. zine fic

The house was slowly coming along, no thanks to Reaper’s continual attempts to undo his efforts, although it seemed to him that they were less aimed at forcing him to leave now, and more intended to irritate him. He’d already come to accept that if he set something down and left it, then it was likely to be somewhere else the next time he wanted it, and he wasn’t above being petty enough to do the same with the skulls hung around the place. At first, he had tried to remove them completely, maybe out of some vague hope that disposing of that would remove Reaper, but they had reappeared no matter how many times he’d tried, so now he settled for moving them around.

Still, things were slowly starting into a pattern of normality and Jack almost wanted to laugh at that thought, knowing that to any sane person, living in a house with something like the Reaper could certainly never fall under the header of normal. It was part of the reason why he’d dissuaded the few people who’d asked about visiting from coming, wanting to cling to the strange peace he had managed to find here. _Peace…_ His fingers twitched, a tremor wracking his body as for a moment the farmhouse seemed to fade away, leaving him surrounded by sand and smoke, his nose assaulted with the smell of gunpowder and the coppery tang of blood.

_NO!_

Gasping he jolted himself back to the present by pinching the flesh between his thumb and finger, shuddering as blood welled up from where his nail had bitten in. There was a tremor to his hands as he moved to the sink, hastily washing the blood away and closing his eyes as he sucked in deep breaths, trying to force the memories away. The peace and quiet that usually helped him keep them at bay was working against him now, leaving him with no avenue of escape and he opened his eyes, half-hoping that he would see the Reaper, needing the distraction right now. There was no sign of him though, no faint creak of wooden floors to betray its attempts to sneak up on him and he growled, cursing the Reaper to hell and back, before glancing around in search of another distraction.

In the end he fell back on what he knew, retrieving his old rifle from the bedroom, not without a dark glance at the closet before retreating downstairs to the dining table. It was something he’d learnt to do sitting at his father’s side, and as he slowly started to take the rifle apart, he felt his mind starting to quiet, the memories not banished, but pushed aside for the time being. He worked quietly for a while, fingers moving with practiced ease as he carefully set aside each part, his hands growing steadier with each piece that he set out at the cloth, breathing settling back into an even pattern.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been working, fingers coated in oil now, slipping against the metal as he detected a shift in the atmosphere, biting his lip as he caught the faintest movement out of the corner of his eye. “I can tell that you’re watching me,” he muttered, not looking up from his work, having learnt that it was easier to play along with the Reaper’s games. However, the gaze that he could feel burning into a spot between his shoulders didn’t abate, if anything, it seemed to intensify, demanding his attention and he sighed, shoulders slumping before he finally lifted his head and tilted it, glancing behind him and pasting a scowl on his face as he demanded. “What do you want?” There was a long pause, and he was just starting to wonder if he was imaging things, when the shadows along the far wall began to stir, moving against the light as wisps of smoke began to rise from the floor, coalescing until the Reaper was standing in front of him, head tilted in question.

“What…” Reaper seemed to falter, and Jack tensed as the large hands clenched into fists, clawed fingers flexing as though the creature was ready to lash out, reaching for his rifle and tightening around the butt of the weapon. It was still in pieces, but at the very least he could use it as a blunt weapon if the Reaper finally decided to lash out physically. Instead the moment of frustration seemed to pass, Reaper relaxing, reaching up to scratch at the end of its nose, the sound of claw against bone sending a shiver down Jack’s back. “What are you doing?”

Jack’s eyebrow rose as he studied the Reaper for a moment, caught off guard by its attempt at starting a conversation. Apart from the odd word here and there, usually intended to unnerve him, the Reaper had avoided talking to him and there had been times when he had wondered if it even knew how to speak. Part of him wanted to ignore him, reluctant to encourage him, but there was something about the tilted head and the expectant gaze that made him reply.

“I’m cleaning my gun,” he replied, turning back to his work as he added quietly. “I was going to go hunting again later.” He didn’t know why he had told Reaper that, fully aware that he had been followed on his last couple of trips, that burning gaze never far away. He was also sure that was why he had been so unsuccessful on the last trip, remembering how the branches above his head had creaked and swayed, although whenever he had looked up all he had seen was a fleeting wisp of smoke, a remnant of a crimson glow fading into the shadows.

“Why?”

“Why?” Jack echoed confused, flinching as he realised that the Reaper had moved closer, the skull filling his vision as he leant down to peer at what Jack was doing. This close it was impossible to miss the difference in their sizes and he seized up for a moment, fear stirring as it dawned on him just how easy it would be for the Reaper to tear him apart if he chose, side-eyeing the clawed hand that had come to rest on the table next to his elbow.

“I see these…” Reaper paused, an irritated growl escaping as he reached out, claws tapping against the rifle as he searched for the word. “Weapons.”

“Guns...?” Jack offered, earning a sharp look from Reaper and he felt his lips threatening to quirk upwards at the irritation in the glowing eyes.

“In your nightmares,” Reaper continued after a moment and Jack tensed, bile rising in the back of his throat. He knew exactly what kind of things Reaper had seen in his nightmares, he just had to close his eyes and he knew that he could lose himself in similar scenes, feeling the tremors creeping back into his hands, and under Reaper’s knowing gaze he hastily yanked them into his lap, hiding them from sight, pressing on the point where he had drawn blood earlier, refusing to lose himself in the past whilst he was this vulnerable. “You fear them. You’re afraid right now…” There was movement in periphery of his vision, and Jack couldn’t stop himself from recoiling as Reaper’s tongue appeared in his line of sight, too long, flickering through the air and brushing his cheek, leaving a cold trail across his skin as Reaper hummed under his breath. “I can taste it.”

“That could just be you,” Jack spat as he pulled back, defensive, angry as he tried to fight back the memories as the momentary peace he had achieved by working on the gun disappeared.

“It could,” Reaper acknowledged with a chuckle, his tongue savouring the air for a moment longer before it disappeared and for a fleeting second Jack hoped that was going to spell the end of the conversation, but it appeared as though Reaper wasn’t finished yet. “But it isn’t. Did you know?” The harsh growl was almost soft, and somehow that was even more terrifying, although not as much as the claw that briefly brushed against one of the deeper scars on his face, the touch sending shivers through Jack. “Your fear of me tastes different, muted…because you don’t really fear me, do you?” There was a note of wistfulness in the question, and Jack hesitated. Part of him wanted to say ‘yes’, to pretend that it wasn’t the past and everything he had endured that had him trembling and hiding from his memories, that Reaper was the reason why he woke most nights drenched in a cold sweat, throat aching from shouting out warnings that had come far too late. He couldn’t do it, twisting his trembling fingers together as he whispered.

“No…I’m not afraid of you” He pulled away from Reaper’s touch, glaring up at him. It had always been easier to focus on his anger, both at himself and the world, rather than the other more complicated emotions churning in his chest and his next words came out as a low growl. “Are you happy now?” He wanted a fight, he wanted something other than the fear and memories still churning in his thoughts and his fingers tightened on his gun, daring Reaper to react, to argue with him.

“Yes.” The blunt answer wasn’t what he had been expecting and he subsided, staring wide-eyed at Reaper who glanced away, an almost wistful expression on his face. “It has been a very long time since someone said they weren’t afraid of me, you might even be the first.” If it hadn’t been for the raspy, inhuman voice, he might have said that Reaper sounded like a lost child, trying to understand why no one wanted to be friends with him. It jarred with his image of Reaper, leaving him feel unsettled and he leaned back, trying to collect himself, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away from Reaper who was now staring out of the window. “Everyone who comes to this house fears me, even if they never see me. Yet you…” Now, Reaper turned to look at him, eyes glowing as he focused on Jack with an intensity that would have been frightening were it not for the soft confusion in his voice. “Why?”

_Why indeed?_ There was every reason to fear this strange, unworldly creature he had ended up cohabiting with. It was there in the pranks that had bordered on dangerous when Reaper had been trying to hound him out of the house, and in the sharp claws that only moments before had been brushing against his skin. All his military training, the survival instincts honed over long years of living on the edge told him that the Reaper was dangerous. However, it was that time spent living on the edge that gave him his answer and he sighed, the last hint of fight draining from him, as he met Reaper’s gaze once more.

“There are worse things in the world,” Jack murmured, lowering his gaze as he added softly. “I’ve seen them.” _I’ve done them,_ he added silently, fingers straying to the dog tags hanging just inside his shirt, only to yank them back before he touched them, praying that Reaper hadn’t noticed the movement. He sighed, before forcing himself to look up at Reaper once more. “After all that, it’s hard to find you all that terrifying. Annoying, certainly…but not terrifying.”

Reaper bristled at that, the decorations on the tines of his antlers rattling softly as he drew himself up to his full height, reminding Jack of the one he had found in the woods. The chain was safely tucked into the bottom of his pocket, and for a moment he was tempted to pull it out and hand it back, a peace offering of sorts. However, he was reluctant to part with it as it had become a charm of sorts, something for him to grip between trembling fingers when the memories threatened to get too much. However, the moment passed as Reaper stepped away, cloven feet loud against the wooden floor in the awkward silence that had fallen, and he was already beginning to dissolve back into the shadows when he tilted his head to look back at Jack. Crimson eyes fixated on him as Reaper slowly faded from sight, until all that was left was the haunting echo of his voice.

“I will have to change that…Jack.”


	3. Christmas Bonus - Bells

It had started as a joke. Jack had picked up some Christmas decorations from the local thrift store on one of his rare ventures into town and Reaper had been fascinated. He’d had a vague awareness of the holiday before, but it had been a long time since anyone had lived in the house long enough to celebrate it, and he had immediately been curious about what was in the box. Months of living with Jack had taught him to be gentle with things, and he was cautious as he examined the delicate baubles, fascinated by the way they distorted his image and reflected the light. He was so focused on them, that he didn’t noticed Jack pulling something else out of the box until there was a gentle tinkling sound next to his ear, followed by cautious fingers against his antlers.

Starting, he tilted his head up and heard the noise again, blinking as something came into view as he shook his head. It took a moment for him to realise what it was, eyes narrowing as he took in the tiny golden bell that was dangling on the end of a red ribbon. Abandoning the baubles, he reached up, realising that whilst he’d been distracted Jack had managed to hang a dozen of the tiny bells from each antler, the tinkling noise ringing out with even the slightest movement.

“Now you won’t be able to sneak up on me,” Jack teased as he stepped back to admire his work, and Reaper scowled as he realised that he was right. There was no way he would be able to scare anyone like this, and he immediately reached up to try and remove them, only to realise that his claws were getting in the way, skittering against his antler and making it impossible for him to undo the knots. He tried shifting forms, but when he reformed on the other side of the room the bells were still there, so tightly bound to his antlers that he hadn’t been able to lose them. He shook his head, growling at the music the motion created and glaring at Jack when the human laughed at him before stalking out of the room.

****

It had been nearly a week since Jack had put the bells on Reaper, who had kept his distance ever since, sulking and constantly trying to undo the knots. He was working on them again, muttering to himself under his breath as his claws constantly undermined his efforts when Jack walked into the bedroom, and Jack sighed.

“Come here,” he didn’t give Reaper a chance to try and escape, moving across to him and standing in front of him, trapping him in place. “I’ll take them off for you.” Gently he reached out to work on the top ribbon, only to realise that Reaper’s constant fidgeting with them had drawn the knots so tight that even without claws he wasn’t going to be able to get them off. “Hang on,” he muttered, reaching into his back pocket for the pocket knife he had been using to work on Reaper’s gift earlier, missing the way Reaper tensed as he flipped it open before reaching for the ribbon once more. He had barely put the blade to the material when Reaper jerked back, yanking himself free of Jack’s grips with a sharp shout.

“No!”

“Reaper?” Jack asked cautiously, not sure what to make of the sudden desperation he had heard in Reaper’s voice, or the way his housemate’s hands were now hovering protectively over the gently tinkling bells. “But…”

“You gave them to me,” Reaper mumbled, gently nudging one of the bells and listening to it tingle, before gently stilling it as he met Jack’s gaze. “They were a gift.” _They’re mine._

“I…” _But they’re not your gift,_ Jack wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come as he watched Reaper listening to the bells with a tilted head and after a moment he shrugged in defeat, a small smile playing across his lips as he murmured. “Yes, they’re yours.”


	4. Christmas Bonus - Ice Skating

Jack had been out hunting when he found it, hoping to supplement his food stores before the snow got any worse because trips into town were practically impossible at this point. He had ventured further than usual, heading deeper into the woods, and it felt like he was the only thing in the world right then as there was nothing but the sound of his heavy boots crunching on the snow and his own harsh breathing. The world was asleep, waiting for Spring, and as the chill seemed to settle into his aging body he wished that he could do the same, aches and pains that hadn’t been present a couple of years ago, rearing their head in response to the wintry weather.

So far, his hunt had been unsuccessful, the rucksack on his back as empty as it had been at the start and he was just starting to contemplate going back, the thought of the warm hearth and Reaper’s company like a siren song as a flurry of snow landed on his head, a shiver working its way through his body. Home, sounded like a good idea right now. However, he hated returning empty handed and he decided to continue for a few more minutes, hoping that something would cross his path, and then he would turn back. Mind made up he pushed onwards, muttering curses when he sank to his knees a couple of times, the blanket of snow making it impossible to see what the ground was like, and he knew that he would be sore all over by tomorrow.

The trees ahead were beginning to thin out, and he frowned as he realised that he could just make out a low fence, the wooden tips sticking out of the snow like spearhead. Deciding that was as good a place to stop as any he moved forwards, eyes scanning hopefully for any sign of life, but aside from a cheeky robin that fluttered down to see what he was doing there was nothing. Well, no, that wasn’t true he realised as he stepped out into the open as the trees gave way to a clearing, now able to see that the low fence surrounded a large pond. A pond that was currently covered in a solid sheet of ice, and looked as though it had been that way for a while, little drifts of snow built up around the edges and Jack inched closer.

_“Come on Jack,” his mother encouraged him as he stood at the edge of the ice, teetering in the ice-skates that he was weary, feeling the give in them that came from hand-me downs that were slightly too large for you. It made him feel even more doubtful about this, eyes wide as he watched his siblings already zipping around on the ice before glancing down, swallowing as he stared at the dark water visible beneath the ice._

_“But what if it breaks?”_

_He heard the snorts and laughter from his brothers and sister, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at them, hunching his shoulders up defensively. He knew they would tease him, they always did when he chickened out of something, but that was infinitely better than the thought of the ice disappearing beneath his feet and sending him tumbling into the cold water. He heard his mother say something, but her words were lost to him although it sounded scolding._

_“It won’t.” He was caught by surprise as his oldest brother skated across to join him, offering him a reassuring grin and holding out a hand to him, even as he added teasingly. “See, if it can hold all of us, it can hold a scrawny thing like you.” Jack immediately bristled at his brother’s words, although he could argue, as even his sister who was a year younger than him was already taller than him, but it didn’t stop him from lunging forward with a low growl._

_“I’m not scrawny!”_

_“And you’re skating!” His brother crowed, moving out of his path and it took Jack a moment to realise that he was right, nearly falling on his bum as he panicked for a moment before the sight of ice underneath his feet. However, he managed to catch himself and then his brother was there, taking his hand and guiding him further out onto the ice and it hadn’t taken long for his fear to become a thing of the past, as he skated and tumbled and laughed on the ice._

There was a melancholy smile playing on his lips as he stared at the ice, realising that it was probably thick enough to skate on after the last few days of freezing temperatures. It had been years since he had skated, years since he had seen his family and standing there in front of the lonely pond he was overcome with a wave of longing.

It was almost a relief to hear movement behind him, Jack easily recognising the sound of Reaper’s steps after all this time and the soft tinkle of his ornaments carrying easily in the stillness. He didn’t move from his spot as Reaper approached, but he did tilt his head to look at him, still caught by surprise by the sight of the equine skull that Reaper had adopted a couple of weeks ago. When Jack had queried the change, Reaper had just muttered something about wanting a change, practically preening when Jack had mumbled that it suited him. Still the burning crimson eyes were the same, and currently alight with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “You were gone longer than normal.” It amused Jack that even when he was trying to be concerned, Reaper still managed to sound petulant about being left behind, something that Jack had insisted upon after realising that the local wildlife tended to give his companion a wide berth which made hunting far harder than it needed to be.

“I was about to come back,” Jack replied, but he found his gaze drifting back to the pond once more, missing the way that Reaper followed his gaze, tilting his head as he found nothing fascinating about the scene. _I miss it._ It had been a long time since Jack had allowed himself the luxury of thinking about happier times, about his family, but standing there he couldn’t hide from the longing to reclaim a little bit of his old life, and before he could doubt himself he looked at Reaper. “Have you ever been ice-skating?”

“Ice-skating?” Reaper repeated, sounding as though he was rolling the words over and over in his mind, something he tended to do when he encountered something he didn’t know or understand, and Jack waited patiently, watching as he tilted his head before turning to crimson eyes towards the pond. “Not that I remember,” he declared eventually, and Jack felt his shoulders slump slightly at the admission. He had known that it was going to be a long-shot, but it didn’t stop the disappointment that washed over him, and he was turning away, ready to head back to the house when Reaper reached for him, clawed hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Do you want to try it?”

“I…” Jack almost said no on instinct, too used to denying himself things, but he found himself unable to lie under Reaper’s burning gaze. “Yes.” The word had barely slipped out before Reaper was reaching for his rucksack and rifle, pulling them both away from him and Jack didn’t fight him, muffling a chuckle as Reaper nearly got tangled in the bag’s straps as he set it down on the ground.

Reaper took the lead, herding him forwards, only to falter at the edge of the ice. “Are you sure this is safe?” He asked, looking back at Jack who had just collided with his back. Hearing the same fear that he’d felt as a child made Jack smile, resting a hand briefly on Reaper’s back before stepping around him and carefully moving out onto the ice. He missed the old, battered ice skates he had grown up with, his heavy boots not gliding quite as easily on the ice, but it was enough and for a moment he lost himself in the sensation and the memories, before a quiet noise had him turning back to look at Reaper who was still hesitating on the shore.

“Come on,” he encouraged, carefully moving closer and holding a hand out to Reaper. There was something amusing about seeing the usually confident creature hovering nervously, but Jack wanted to share this. Needed to share it, and he wiggled his fingers as he met the crimson gaze. “Do you trust me?” He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do if Reaper didn’t reach back, but he didn’t have to worry because clawed fingers tentatively wrapped around his, careful not to hurt him and when he lightly tugged Reaper out onto the ice he didn’t fight him.

That was nearly their undoing, because Jack had been half-expecting resistance and Reaper hadn’t expected the feeling of his hooves skidding against the ice. They both flailed, and it was only Jack’s previous experience that allowed him to brace himself, although he’d never had to support someone as large as Reaper and they both still nearly ended up on their rears. Jack was breathing hard by the time they managed to brace themselves, fingers buried in Reaper’s fur as they took a moment to gather themselves and Jack couldn’t stop the rough chuckle that bubbled up. It didn’t stop there, and soon he was laughing in a way that he hadn’t done for a long time, not helped by Reaper’s wide-eyed gaze when he peered up at him.

It took him several minutes to calm himself, taking a deep breath and scooting back a step, moving his hands down so that he could take hold of Reaper’s once more, still smiling as he continued. “Let’s try that again.”

This time they moved slowly and cautiously, Reaper’s grip tightening, claws digging in despite his best efforts as he felt his hooves skittering against the ice. However, he didn’t pull away, instead focusing on Jack’s face, fascinated by the unusually open expression and the smile that had added a rare sparkle to the blue eyes, which paired with the flush caused by their activity and the winter chill made the old veteran look more alive than ever. It was a look he could get used to. A look that he wanted to see more often, and his own doubts and uncertainty about the activity faded as he followed Jack across the ice, chasing that smile.


	5. Christmas Bonus - Jumper Shenaigans

It had been one of those nights. The long ones where Jack struggled to keep the memories and nightmares at bay, where he called out names in a lost voice that had Reaper aching to take the fear and memories from him. There was always a pang when he heard Gabriel’s name among them, but he had learned to ignore it, soothed by the warm balm of Jack’s promise that he was enough as he was, even if it didn’t feel that way as his words and touch barely seemed to reach the man during the long hours of the night.

It was morning now and he knew that Jack was awake, having detected the change in his breathing and catching the way his fingers were clutching at the pillows. Reaper wanted to nudge him, to hear him speak and check that everything was okay, but he had learned better, although it had taken more than one broken skull to get the message, and so he waited, letting Jack come to him. However, he was wide awake, satiated from the fear that had come from Jack in his sleep, and restless with nothing to distract him and it wasn’t long before he abandoned his seat on the end of the bed and began to wander around the room.

There was little to do, but he wouldn’t leave. Jack wasn’t ready to talk to him, to uncurl himself from the protective huddle he was currently in and face the world, but he also didn’t want to be alone. Reaper had tried leaving him peace once, and he would never forget the desperation in Jack’s face when he had lunged to stop him, pleading with him to stay. And so he stayed now, quietly moving around the room, exploring Jack’s limited belongings, feeling a familiar warmth to see the little trinkets and skulls that he had given him over the last few months were carefully scattered amongst the other items. It reminded him that he needed to hurry up with his search for a Christmas gift, the tree that Jack had hauled inside the day before telling him that he was running out of time, but that would have to wait for later, once Jack was settled and Reaper could venture out.

His interest in the trinkets waning he turned his attention to the wardrobe that Jack had bought, refusing to take up the closet even if Reaper spent most of his time outside of it these days. He had already seen much of the man’s limited wardrobe, remembering the scolding he had received when he had still been playing tricks on Jack and managed to ruin and entire load of clothes. He’d long since been forgiven, but he faltered for a moment, claws tapping restlessly against the door as he glanced back at Jack. However, there was no sign that Jack cared what he was doing at the moment and he was bored, so he pushed through the hesitation and opened the door, peering inside, tongue flicking out as he tasted the scent that was uniquely Jack.

There was little new to see, and he was about to search for a new distraction when he spied something he had seen before, a deep, red jumper hanging jammed between the jeans and curious he reached for it, mindful of his claws. That had been another lecture…gently tugging it out, tilting his head to the side as he studied the design on the front. Whilst he had never seen this jumper before, he recognised it, remembering how Jack had actually smiled, just a tiny twist of his lips, but a smile none the less as he told him how his best friend’s daughter had saved up her pocket money just to buy it for him.

He was even more careful now as he held it up, trying to imagine Jack wearing something so colourful and festive and feeling a strange surge of longing to see the man wearing it. Maybe if he asked… However, that was something else that would have to wait, because Jack was still an unmoving lump in the bed, although enough tension remained to tell Reaper that he was still awake. Turning his attention back to the jumper he paused, staring at it as an idea formed, a longing of a different sort settling over him, and his fingers tightened against the soft material as he risked another quick glance towards Jack.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt…

He had forgotten about his antlers. He’d been spending so much time with Jack, Jack who never seemed to see him as the monster he was and at some point he had forgotten that he wasn’t human, a low, frustrated growl escaping as the material caught on another tine. Frantically he tried to free it, not wanting to damage it, but in his haste he had forgotten about his claws and he flinched as he heard the distinctive sound of material tearing.

_Jack was going to kill him._

Reaper froze for a moment, trying to calm himself before reaching for the jumper again, unable to see what he was doing as it had fallen low enough that it now covered his eyes and trying to free it from his antlers without causing more damage. However, no matter how careful he was, he could hear the material ripping further as he became more and more tangled and eventually he let his hands fall away, shoulders slumping in defeat.

He didn’t want to disturb Jack, but there was no way he could escape on his own and he didn’t dare try and shift into his misty form in case the jumper was lost completely. There was still no sound of movement from the bed, and he shifted uneasily before admitting defeat and taking half a step in what he hoped was the direction of the bed.

“Jack?” He called quietly, voice deliberately soft so that he didn’t startle Jack, not sure what memories he was reliving right now. “Jack…Help.” He added sheepishly when there was no response, and finally he heard the creaking of metal springs as Jack moved and he tensed, unsure of what reaction he was going to get. There was silence for a long moment, enough to make him squirm and then…

Jack laughed.

It was nothing like the free, easy laughter of the children that used to dare themselves to enter the abandoned house or the strained chuckle he had heard Jack give once on the phone. It was a harsh bark of sound, but it was real and Reaper found himself renewing his struggles to escape, consumed with the need to see what Jack looked like as he made that sound. Of course his efforts just left him more entangled than ever, and frustrated and he nearly jumped out of his skin when warm hands settled on top of his, stopping his efforts. “Jack?”

“Just stay still,” Jack sounded exasperated, but not in the way that he did when he was truly angry and Reaper wondered if it was wishful thinking when he caught a note of fond amusement in the hoarse voice. He obediently stood still, ducking his head a little to make it easier for Jack to reach. He’d well and truly got it tangled at this point, and took Jack several minutes to carefully free the jumper from each tine, Reaper flinching each time he heard material giving way, unable to look at Jack when his eyes were uncovered.

Finally, he was freed, Jack standing a short distance in front of him, holding the jumper out in front of him and even with his head lowered, Reaper could see the damage he had caused and he braced himself, waiting for the scolding to come. “That was my favourite jumper,” Jack said finally, but again he didn’t sound angry and Reaper couldn’t resist looking up, not sure what to make of the oddly wistful expression on Jack’s face or the small smile that was playing on his lips and not knowing what else to say he muttered an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

It was two weeks later, with Christmas still three days away that Reaper found the box waiting for him on the kitchen table when he had gone in search of Jack. The box itself was plain, no decoration or anything, with ‘Reaper’ in Jack’s chicken scratch across the top, but it was more than enough to arouse his curiosity as he sidled across to it. Jack had explained to him the tradition of exchanging gifts on Christmas day, but this was too early, and yet he couldn’t think why it would have been left out if he wasn’t supposed to open it. Still, it didn’t stop him looking around warily, feeling suddenly like he was one of the children who used to creep into the house, but there was no sign of Jack, and his coat was missing from the hook by the door which suggested he was outside doing something.

He was alone, and the box was tempting him, his name on the top like a siren call and it didn’t take long for him to give into his curiosity. He was gentle as he eased of the lid, mindful of his claws, only to let it fall from his hands as he stared at the familiar jumper laying nestled in the box. There was a brief pang of guilt, because whilst Jack hadn’t told him off for damaging it, he still felt bad about it and he hesitated before carefully picking it up and studying it.

It was definitely the same jumper, but there were differences. Some of the tears had been neatened, the edges stitched to make them look deliberate, whilst others had been painstakingly sewed up and whilst noticeable, they didn’t look horrendous. However, the biggest change was on the back and Reaper tilted his head, reaching out to gently tug at the edge of the zip that had been add, blinking as he realised that it ran the length of the back.

“What do you think?” Jack’s voice made him jump, and he lifted his head to find Jack standing in the kitchen doorway, cheeks red from the chill outside.

“Jack…” Reaper froze, wondering if he was going to get told off, but Jack looked unsurprised to see him standing there holding it and he relaxed, before tilting his head as his attention shifted down to Jack’s hands. The calloused fingers were covered in numerous band aids, and it only took him a moment to connect the dots, remembering how many times Jack had cursed and caught himself with the needle when he had been mending a tear in his jacket. “You made this?”

“It seemed a pity to throw it out,” Jack muttered, fresh colour seeping into his cheeks much to Reaper’s consternation, and he was about to ask if everything was okay when Jack continued, cutting him off. “And as I don’t think they make jumpers for people with antlers, I thought this might help.” _Oh,_ it really was for him? He glanced down at the jumper, at the amount of effort and love that had been put into repairing the damage he had caused and adapting it to his body, fingers tightening around it, shoulders hunching as emotions that he wasn’t used to feeling welled up, his reaction clearly worrying Jack. “If you don’t like it…”

“I love it.”


	6. Alt ending (TW: Character Death)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was something seperate but based on the zine, and was my angst-loving heart running wild.

They'd had their happiness, but in his contentment with Reaper, Jack's fear had faded. The nightmares came less often. The flashbacks never stopped, but they lost the power they'd once had over him. Reaper never said anything because this Jack, his Jack, was happy, but slowly he found himself beginning to fade. There was nothing for him to feed from anymore, and whilst he had survived for years on the small bursts of fear that came from trespassers and the odd visitor, he had also spent less time in his corporeal form. Each day he found it harder and harder to hold his form, to stay with Jack and yet still he said nothing, because he knew that if he did then Jack would be afraid again. Afraid of losing another person he loved, afraid of being alone...Instead he spent every moment he could with Jack, trying to fill his days with happy memories for when he was gone, masking the moments of weakness with gentle kisses, hiding the wisps of smoke that escaped when his control wavered and the times that Jack faltered, watching him with concerned eyes he diverted his attention with reassurances and promises of always being there.

Until he wasn't....

He'd felt it coming. Known for days that he was losing the fight, and yet still he'd hoped for more time. It was night-time, and Jack was sleeping beside him, their legs tangled, and Jack's fingers buried deep in the material of his robe, clinging to him as he always did when asleep. But he was peaceful, breathing deep and even and Reaper had been losing himself in the sound, feeling himself drifting closer and closer to sleep when he noticed the wisps of smoke rising around them. It had become a common sight these days and he'd already had to make up numerous excuses to reassure Jack...but it had never been like this.... never this much of himself disappearing into the air around them, and as he felt Jack's fingers twitching, registering that they were no longer clinging to something solid he knew.

The selfish part of him wanted to wake Jack, to howl at the unfairness of it...to scare his partner just so that they might have a bit more time together. He did neither, instead he curled around Jack as best he could, smoky fingers lightly tracing every inch of the scarred features he had come to love, careful not to rouse him as he lent in to kiss him, feeling more of his body fading as he did so.

"I love you." He could no longer feel Jack’s body against his, and when he reached for him this time, his fingers passed right through him, Jack’s face twisting into a frown as a shiver wracked him at the sensation and Reaper flinched as he pulled back. He couldn’t look away though, eyes fixated on Jack’s face as everything else started to fade away, watching as Jack settled once more and trying not to imagine how he would look once he realised what had happened. _I'm sorry...._

The next morning Jack woke to an empty house...


End file.
